The Hollywood Tower of Terror
by Cherry Padalecki
Summary: ::A 1940s film noir style story about the Tower of Terror:: As the five year anniversary of the lightning striking the hotel approaches, the Hollywood Tower Hotel re-opens. Immediately following the opening, guests start being killed. When her boyfriend goes missing in the hotel Jasmine seeks out the help of a young detective, Eric, whose sister had been on the elevator that night.


_**Hollywood  
October 24, 1944- Tuesday  
10:30pm**_

I saw him before he saw me.

Detective Eric Prinze walked into the bar from the night just as I knew he would. His latest victim was a regular here.

He slowly reached up to remove his fedora while his eyes scanned the faces.

I didn't trust him, not entirely. There was something about those blue eyes. They had seen more bad business than most men. Which was why I needed him.

Eric strolled over to the bar, set down his hat and ordered his drink. As I raised my own drink to my lips, Eric rested his elbow on the bar and turned to watch everyone. His eyes met with a red-haired doll's and he smiled at her. Her sugar-colored skin turned pink in the cheeks as she looked away and giggled with her friend.

Yes, Eric was as smooth as the gin he had just ordered. It didn't hurt that he was handsome, as well. He was fit and muscular under that trenchcoat, with a classic James Stewart face and dark hair. He was young, only twenty-four, but his darkened eyes and tired face expressed he was far more serious than most men his age.

I couldn't blame him, no one could. His younger sister was one of the passengers.

Five years ago, almost to the day, there was an accident.

Amidst the glitz and glitter of Hollywood there was a hotel where everyone who was anyone stayed; a sort of beacon to the show business elite. It was called the Hollywood Tower Hotel. In its heyday, the Hollywood Tower Hotel was a star in its own right. But, on October 31, 1939, lighting struck the elevator. The elevator free-fell down thirteen stories and an entire wing of the hotel was reduced to ashes. There were five passengers on the elevator at the time, including Eric's sister, Aurora. None of their bodies were found and detectives at the time concluded their bodies were ashed like the rest of the wing.

The hotel closed right after that; most of it remaining exactly as it had been at the time of the accident; dust and cobwebs clung to the lights and chandeliers, suitcases and other luggage left behind, newspapers left on desks marking October 31, 1939. Until a few nights ago, that is, when they reopened the hotel. Most of it was restored- with the exception of the destroyed wing. That was left as a memorial to the five lost passengers. Anticipation and excitement had built over the grand re-opening and every room was booked.

Then someone was murdered at the hotel that very night. In the elevator. There have been three dead bodies in the hotel in the four days since the hotel re-opened.

Word spread quickly about the killings as did the superstition that the ghosts of the passengers were haunting the hotel and killing the guests.

Eric is the lead detective of the case. And _that_ is what brings me- and him- here tonight. I continued to watch him from across the bar while he finished his first drink and ordered another. The red-haired girl was now sitting beside him. She gave him a flirty smile and held up a cigarette holder to her lips. Eric struck a match and held the flame out for her.

Young women were always drawn to Eric. Well, not _Eric_, Eric's connections. His father is a major film director and Aurora had been actress. After the accident, Prinze Films became even more popular and more and more women were seeking out Eric and dogging him, hoping he could get them into the pictures. It was sad, really. But, something told me Eric didn't mind.

"Martini, please." A young woman, maybe only twenty, sat down on the stool adjacent to mine. She was pretty, with dark wavy hair and dressed all in black. She felt me looking at her and smiled. "Hello."

"Hi," I replied.

The bartender set her drink in front of her and she smiled sweetly at him. She took a sip from her glass and her eyes wandered over to Eric. Of course. She was one of them. It seemed I was going to have to weed through a few wannabe actresses before I had a chance to speak with the detective.

The girl looked back at me. "That's Eric Prinze," she said.

I nodded. "I know."

She took an olive between her teeth and pulled it into her mouth. "I'm going to be in the pictures." She stated this as if just by saying it made it so. "My name is Elizabeth Short. Remember it; you'll see it everywhere someday." She took a sip of her martini. "But, you can call me Beth. All my friends do."

I looked over at Eric again. The red-haired girl was sitting with her back to me now and was partially obstructing my view of the detective. She had the side of her hair pulled back with a barrette so I had a visual of the side of her face as she seductively put her cigarette holder to her lips. She was young; couldn't be more than eighteen. She wore a blue dress and a string of pearls; she oozed wealth and entitlement. She clearly wasn't interested in being in film for the money. Perhaps it was the attention and spotlight that she coveted. Or perhaps she was genuinely passionate about acting. More than likely she was the former. There was hardly a rich girl in Hollywood who wasn't glitterati.

"She'll never make it," Beth said, also watching the ginger siren.

Eric wrote something on the back of the matchbox and handed it to the girl. He smiled coolly at her before kissing her hand. She gave him a slight nod and walked away. This was my chance.

"What's your name?" Beth asked me, not noticing Eric was now alone.

I didn't have time for this. Beth seemed like a swell enough girl and maybe someday she would be famous, but that didn't matter to me. I had to speak with the detective.

"Please excuse me," I told her. I picked up my drink and clutch and sauntered over to Eric.

Eric didn't notice me approach him. A cigarette dangled from his soft lips as he rubbed his hands over his coat; searching for a light no doubt. I pulled my Zippo lighter out of my clutch, flicked it open and held it to his cigarette. He smiled at me and blew the smoke off to the side. The way those blue eyes roamed over my curvy body and red dress, I knew he thought I was just another actress there to bat my eyelashes and stroke his ego in attempt to vie for his father's attention.

"Good evening," he greeted.

I sat down where the young girl had been. When I set down my drink I noticed a napkin with a phone number perfectly written out in straight penmanship. The corner of the napkin was decorated with a bright pink lipstick kiss and the name Ariel was written across the top. Eric reached over and picked up the napkin.

"Is there something I can help you with? A meeting with my father, perhaps?" Eric asked, carefully tucking the napkin into his pocket.

I shook my head. "No. Unfortunately, I have a more serious matter to discuss with you, detective."

"Oh yeah, doll?" He took a drag from his cigarette. "What about?"

I left him in slight anticipation while I finished my Manhattan. "About the Hollywood Tower Hotel."

Eric straightened up, the flirty look in his eye vanishing. "What about it?"

I picked the cherry out of my glass, lowering it to my mouth. I slowly pulled it off the stem and let the sweet juice caress my tongue. "It's about my boyfriend, detective. He disappeared at the hotel tonight."


End file.
